


Ride out with me

by raiyana



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, Éowyn is a Bicon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29402139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: A perfect spring day is best enjoyed in the company of a good friend.
Relationships: Éowyn/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14
Collections: 2021 My Slashy Valentine





	Ride out with me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_lasbelin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_lasbelin/gifts).



“Ride out with me!” Lira exclaimed happily, catching Éowyn’s hand the moment she opened her door, tugging her closer. “It’s a glorious morning and the sea of grass blooms beneath the blue skies!” Lira’s joy was infectious and Éowyn _wanted_ to ride out with her, wanted the promised taste of freedom.

She opened her mouth to agree, before she remembered that she had responsibilities to her uncle. “I’m not sure…”

“I already spoke with Frithuswith – she’s making Lynet serve the King this morn,” Lira said, waving away Éowyn’s hesitance. She smiled mischievously – _so pretty_ – and continued with a wink. “And she said you deserved a bit of fun.”

Freedom beckoned. All she had to do was take the proffered hand and follow her friend. _Her friend_.

Eówyn smiled, her spirits lifting.

“Come on, Wyn,” Lira wheedled, making her dark eyes go almost comically wide as she pleaded.

Éowyn had to laugh at her antics, already won over.

“One last ride; we’ll be going back home soon enough,” Lira continued, “and then I won’t see you for ages and ages.”

Well, not until summer had come and gone again, and the blankets of chill winter snow had fallen on Meduseld, at least, Éowyn knew. Erkenbrand might allow his wilful daughters a goodly measure of freedom to roam but he would never let either of them ride all the way to Edoras without a proper escort. Looking down at her thin shift, and over at Lira’s sensible riding clothes, Éowyn chuckled. “Just let me-”

“Going somewhere, ladies?” Gríma wondered, though Éowyn might as well have been alone for the way his focus stayed with her. His eyes were dark, too, and his hair, but there the similarity with Lira ended; Lira’s set Éowyn’s heart aflame with warmth and joy where Gríma’s covetous darkness chilled her to the core.

She shivered, suddenly feeling naked in her shift, and hiked the blanket a little higher up her shoulders.

“Riding,” Lira replied, taking a step forward so she blocked the doorway and Éowyn had to step back into her room, breaking the spell of Gríma’s gaze.

Giving her friend a grateful smile, Éowyn moved further away from the door; Lira had never hidden her disdain for Uncle’s advisor, but she had no fear of him, either.

Outside her room, Gríma said something, but Éowyn paid him no mind, putting on her riding gear as swiftly as possible.

Windfola’s hooves pounded the grassy ground beneath them, the scent of spring in the wind played with her pale hair and Éowyn was _free_. Beside her, Lira was laughing at the antics of her roan gelding, dark braids bouncing against her back as the horses moved across the plain.

“Thank you!” Éowyn called, pleased when Lira’s smile grew sweeter in answer.

And then the familiar flash of mischief appeared in her eyes and Éowyn knew what she wanted before she had uttered the challenge.

“Race you!” Lira grinned, urging Ordstan on. The gelding whinnied, discovering an extra burst of speed somewhere, and Éowyn followed. Windfola would catch them up, she had no doubt, laughing at the exhilaration of the wind in her hair and the powerful warm body between her legs as the two horse galloped.

This was _life_ , and Éowyn filled her lungs with it, breathing in the joy and movement of horse and rider in perfect understanding, Windfola’s thundering hooves an extension of her own limbs as they both stretched towards victory.

And then they were past Lira’s playful mount and Éowyn’s heart soared weightlessly above the plains, filled with pure unadulterated _joy_.

“You win!” Lira shouted after her, laughing brightly.

Slowing – feeling slightly regretful – Éowyn let Windfola return to a sweet trot, her sides moving with each lungful of air; it had been too long since she had done this, she knew, patting the dappled grey neck and promising herself that she would ride out more often just for the joy of it.

“She was rightly named, and we graciously accept defeat, my lady.” Lira bowed in her saddle when Ordstan came up beside Windfola.

“What do I win?” Eowyn asked.

“What would you like?” Lira asked, chuckling. She was breathing as hard as Éowyn, the exhilaration of the hard ride tingling through her body.

Éowyn considered it.

“Perhaps we’ll rest here,” Lira suggested, pointing to a small tree by a stream some ways off, “while you think it over.”

“Perhaps you’ll owe me a forfeit,” Éowyn teased, turning Windfola with a slight press of her leg. “Or a favour.”

“No hardship to be indebted to you, Wynne,” Lira chuckled, reaching out to put her hand on Éowyn’s arm. Windfola danced a little though she didn’t shy away from Ordstan and Éowyn got her reined in easily. “A kinder mistress than many, I’m sure.”

“Did we bring food?” Éowyn wondered, swinging herself off of her spirited mare, suddenly ravenous.

“Do you really think Frithuswith would let me steal you away so early in the day without giving me enough food for three Riders?” Lira grinned.

“I should know better, huh?” Éowyn chuckled, leading Windfola to the small stream. Running her hands down each slender limb, she felt for possible injuries, pleased to find nothing to concern her.

Lira dropped the bags that had been strapped to Ordstan’s saddle, freeing him from the burden with a sweet murmur of praise that made the horse snicker at her and lip at her hair before he joined Windfola for a drink.

Cupping her hands in the small stream, Éowyn gasped at the icy chill on her skin, bringing the refreshing water to her mouth with a small smile.

“I’ve breads and some soft cheese – and cured sausage, lovely! – and a couple of carrots and two apples.”

“Windfola has earned her carrot and apple,” Éowyn nodded, accepting her cheese-stuffed bread roll and a couple thick slices of sausage.

Lira smiled at her, the blade of her dagger easily cutting into the hard sausage. She held up the knife, catching the light of the sun in its gleaming steel. “Like it?” she asked, holding out the dagger.

“Fine work,” Éowyn nodded. The blade had an etching of a running deer near the hilt that had been fashioned from the animal’s foot.

“Father’s employed a new smith at the Keep,” Lira smiled. “It was a gift for my name day.”

“Well, I _have_ heard him brag about his fleet-footed daughter,” Éowyn replied. “And seen you dance, too.”

“Perhaps I shall have one made for you, carved with horses,” Lira said, biting into her own food with a contented smile.

“A wooden handle, I hope,” Éowyn said, glancing at Windfola’s hooves. As slender and beautiful as her mare was, Éowyn’s hand would never be able to wrap around her foot like Lira’s long fingers wrapped around the deer hoof.

“You’re funnier than I remember,” Lira laughed, returning the dagger to its sheath and setting herself to the task of sustenance with a happy groan.

“Perhaps you bring it out of me,” Éowyn chuckled, swallowing another bite. “I assure you humorous is not the first word the ladies of Meduseld would claim me.”

“Then I shall endeavour to make you laugh more often,” Lira nodded decisively. “I can’t go home and report to Prince Théodred that you never smiled once during my stay after all.”

Giving Lira her best manic grin, Éowyn waited for her friend to crack. She didn’t have to wait long.

Long fingers cupped her cheeks, drawing her face into a more natural smile, Lira’s dark eyes filled with an almost tender intensity as she studied Éowyn’s face.

“Do I pass muster?” Éowyn asked, a touch more breathless than she expected feeling her face soften, her smile sweeten beneath those dark eyes.

Lira smiled, lifting one hand to wrap in her golden curls. “Almost,” she whispered, drawing back, “but now you’re perfect. A golden spring morning on the plains.”

Lifting her hand, Éowyn touched her hair. She smiled. In among the curling waves, Lira had tucked a sprig of the blue wildflowers growing in abundance around them.

“What are you, then?” she whispered back. With her raven-black hair that carried an almost blue shine to its lustre and her slender build, Lira was a bird waiting to take wing into the blue sky, a hawk destined for the hunt. Erkenbrand might liken her to a deer, but Lira had never been timid or shy, qualities Éowyn rather admired in her.

“Fortunate you decided to come with me,” Lira replied, Éowyn’s favourite sweet smile on her face.

She wanted to kiss that smile.

“I am the fortunate one,” Éowyn protested. “To have a friend such as you to take me away from Meduseld even if just for a day.”

“I shall ask father to invite you,” Lira offered, though they both knew neither Théoden or Théodred – or Éomer, really, if he heard – would think a visit necessary; the orcs were growing bolder in their raids. Éomer would probably scold her just for taking this ride without an escort, ignoring that both Éowyn and Lira were capable of defending themselves with the sword and bow.

Éowyn shrugged. 

“Perhaps I should be satisfied with one day, alone in the plains.”

“Oh?” Lira whispered, suddenly close enough that Éowyn could pick out each speckled change in colour of her eyes. From afar, they were a uniform dark, but up close showed flecks of amber and gold among the dark brown. “And what would you be satisfied with on this day?”

“A kiss?” Éowyn breathed, her heart hammering in her chest with sudden nervousness. “You do owe me a forfeit.”

“Hmmm,” Lira hummed, studying her for a moment before leaning in, pressing her lips against Éowyn’s cheek and leaving a trail of goosebumps springing up all down her body. “Forfeit granted,” Lira whispered, and Éowyn knew it was a challenge; in the races, a forfeited kiss might be satisfied with the cheek, but a bold rider would claim the lips of his intended.

And she wanted to be bold. Just once, she wanted to be a shieldmaiden of legend, fierce and fearless, free of the delicate cage of her life.

Lira’s lips were sweet against hers, moving gently as she let Éowyn push her back onto the ground, drawing back to hover over that dear face for a moment.

Lira’s smile was her new favourite, sweet and _hungry_ , and Éowyn had to kiss her for it, tracing her upper lip with her tongue before finding it with her own once more.

One kiss became two became more – breathlessly sweet as Éowyn’s fingers tangled in black locks and Lira’s hand stroked slowly down her arm – became many.

Drawing back slightly, Éowyn traced Lira’s brow with a finger, continuing down her cheek, watching those dark eyes molten and _soft_ , filling her with a delicious yearning when her fingertip reached Lira’s lips and she drew it into her mouth, sucking gently.

“ _Everything you do_ ,” Éowyn whispered, dipping her head for another kiss, “would satisfy me.”

The hand on her side gained purpose, following the line of her waistband until Lira’s fingers were wrapped around her buttock, squeezing gently as she encouraged Éowyn to rock against her, to ride her thigh like she was still in Windfola’s saddle.

“Me too,” Lira whispered between kisses, moaning softly when Éowyn managed to press her own thigh against that sweet spot filling her body with liquid joy, making Lira sigh and moan beneath her. “Good thing…” she mumbled, her voice breaking on a cry of pleasure, “I managed to – _oh!_ – steal you away… without an escort, then.”

“Mmmm,” Éowyn moaned into her neck, discovering a new spot to kiss that made Lira’s back arch up against her, made her moan into her ear, chasing the peaks of her pleasure. Was it better to be the source of Lira’s pleasure or to feel her own body so alive and warm and _happy_. Éowyn did not know, but the small sounds she could coax from the woman beneath her with nothing but her lips were addictive. “Théodred would scold us.”

“What _he_ ,” Lira sighed, snaking a hand into Éowyn’s leggings, “doesn’t know…” Her smile was lazy, sated, and so kissable.

Riding out today was definitely one of her best ideas of late.

Éowyn laughed into Lira’s soft skin, her amusement breaking into a moan as Lira’s clever fingers found their goal.

“Would fill one of your Gondorian books,” she muttered. “A thick one.”

Lira laughed brightly, and suddenly Éowyn found herself on her back, looking up at her dark-haired lover.

“Perhaps,” she murmured, grinning, “but you can always tell him I lead you astray.”

“ _Never_.” Éowyn smiled.

Lira’s lips softened against hers, her fingers proving as skilful at drawing out Éowyn’s pleasure as they were at drawing her bow. Éowyn moaned into her mouth, feeling herself played like a fiddle, flying up into the sky above, her soul free as a bird.


End file.
